


Paterfamilias

by Lilithangel



Category: Sherlock (TV), Torchwood
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-17
Updated: 2012-08-17
Packaged: 2017-11-12 07:46:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/488422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilithangel/pseuds/Lilithangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A strange crime brings someone from Cardiff to London and John finally learns more about Sherlock’s family, possibly more than he ever wanted to know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paterfamilias

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Отец семейства](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1321282) by [Bathilda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bathilda/pseuds/Bathilda)



Sherlock had ignored five calls by the time the limousine pulled up outside. John sighed and followed Sherlock who was obviously intending to sweep past the car until Mycroft stepped out into his path.

“It really is in your best interests to pay attention Sherlock,” Mycroft said.

“Nothing coming from you is ever in my best interests,” Sherlock replied stepping around him.

“Cardiff has been called in on this one,” Mycroft said to Sherlock’s back.

To John’s amazement Sherlock came to a halt and turned around.

“I’m assuming you don’t mean the entirety of Cardiff city,” John said looking at the two of them as they exchanged an entire conversation in one look.

“Of course not John,” Sherlock said. “Mycroft is referring to Jack.”

“You won’t be able to avoid him,” Mycroft said to Sherlock, “he’ll have pieces to the puzzle.”

“Obviously,” Sherlock huffed and spun on his heel to stride away.

“Who’s Jack?” John said, but Mycroft was already back in his car. “Who’s Jack?” he called out, chasing after Sherlock.

“He’ll be at the Yard,” Sherlock said continuing to walk. “Lestrade has deliberately kept this from me.”

“Why would Lestrade keep this Jack from you?” John said.

“Just the knowledge of his involvement, honestly John do keep up,” Sherlock said in exasperation.

“Keep up with what?” John said. “Who is Jack and why would the Yard call him in? I mean this case is strange but you’ve solved stranger.”

“If Jack’s involved its far stranger than we know,” Sherlock replied, “Jack rarely leaves Cardiff he heads a special taskforce that deals with the unexplained events. Cardiff is a hotspot and normally keeps him well occupied.” Sherlock’s sniff expressed his opinion of unexplained events.

“A special taskforce, he’s what, Mulder?”

“He’s Jack,” Sherlock replied blankly.

John sighed. “Are we going to the Yard then?”

“Of course,” Sherlock said, “who knows what sort of trouble he’s already caused.” And once again John was left to get into the summoned cab before it sped off.

“Most of the Yard dislikes Jack,” Sherlock said, “he doesn’t answer to them and he’s not averse to reminding them of the fact, especially when they have no choice but to work with him.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” John muttered and Sherlock shot him an annoyed look.

“He’s also friendly with a surprising number of powerful people,” Sherlock added. “He’s military but not like many you’ll have encountered.”

“He sounds fascinating,” John said.

“He’s not,” Sherlock snapped, “he’s frustrating, arrogant and secretive.”

“Again, just like someone else I know,” John quipped again and the rest of the journey passed in silence.

Sally stormed passed them as they entered the building. “Get him out of here before someone shoots him,” she snarled without slowing.

“Yes,” Sherlock said to John, “there is someone she dislikes more than me. Although it’s more to do with Anderson’s frankly disturbing crush than anything Jack has done.”

“Anderson’s crush… is this Jack gay?”

“No, but he does have higher standards than Anderson,” Sherlock replied, completely confusing John.

Through the glass John could see a tall figure standing in Lestrade’s office wearing a long coat that rivalled Sherlock’s for dramatic impact.

The man turned as they entered and John was struck by a strong jaw, dimple and very, very straight white teeth.

“Sherlock, you don’t write,” the man said with a wide grin, “I only know what’s happening from Mycroft’s Christmas letter. This must be your doctor.” he turned his grin onto John who almost took a step backwards from the force of it.

“Jack,” Sherlock said, ignoring the rest of Jack’s words, “what do you know about the case?”

“I’m Captain Jack Harkness,” Jack said extending a hand to John, “but you can call me Jack. Do you prefer captain or doctor, or can I call you John? Two captains could get very confusing and doctors tend to get me rather excited.”

“Stop it,” Sherlock snapped as John shook Jack’s hand in a daze.

“Mycroft sends Christmas letters?” John asked, “Please call me John.”

“It’s a tradition,” Jack said, “Mycroft does love his traditions.”

“As if you need Mycroft to keep you up to date,” Sherlock snorted.

“At least he makes the effort,” Jack said.

“Are you two related?” John said looking from one to the other, “because you sound related.”

“They’re like this every time,” Lestrade said reminding them that he was there. “Until Sherlock gets the hump and insists he can handle the case without Jack, Jack proves he knows more than Sherlock about the situation, they both leave and the case is never solved but it never happens again and it doesn’t go against my record so can we just get on to the point where I get my office back again?”

“Greg…” Jack laughed moving around to rest his hand on Lestrade’s shoulder, “you love us really.”

“No, I don’t,” Lestrade said, “I might occasionally like you and I tolerate Sherlock for what he can do but you piss off my staff and paperwork follows you the same way as trouble does.”

Jack laughed and dropped a quick kiss on the top of Lestrade’s head. To John’s surprise Lestrade did nothing more than sigh. “I’ll say hello to Mycroft for you,” Jack said deftly dodging the pen Lestrade threw at him.

Jack tapped a folder on Lestrade’s desk suddenly back to business. “Here’s everything I can tell you about your suspect.”

“Which will be next to nothing and basically useless,” Sherlock said but he picked up the folder. “Your new squeeze is indulging your deplorable tastes,” he added as he scanned the contents.

Jack’s eyes twinkled (John had never actually seen eyes twinkle for real before). “What gave it away?”

“The coat is almost a perfect replica but obviously has never seen real battle aside from the stresses you put on it. Three of the buttons of your shirt have been re-sewn on because it’s your favourite and please don’t regale me with how they were lost I have absolutely no interest in knowing. There are several small coffee stains on one cuff that suggests it was good coffee that you didn’t want to waste and you’re all together too smug to not be in the throes of a new relationship,” Sherlock rattled off.

“Bang on as always,” Jack said with a proud smile.

“Why can’t you say piss off like a normal person?” Sherlock huffed.

“Now you know I enjoy your deductions,” Jack said, he looked like he was going to say more but Sherlock interrupted him.

“Of course,” Sherlock said triumphantly, “it all makes sense now. Your people are completely wrong,” he added tossing the file to Jack, “and you can tell Owen to keep his hands off Molly. Come on, if I’m right and I always am, they’re planning one last attempt before leaving.”

“Leaving where?” John said as Sherlock spun around dramatically and opened the door.

“Come on John,” Sherlock said, “you too Jack, if you must.”

“Oh I must,” Jack said. “Detective Inspector, it’s been a pleasure as always.”

“Of course it has, now get out of here before Anderson gets back with that sample he wanted to show you,” Lestrade warned.

“Give him my love,” Jack dimpled and waved John on ahead of him. “After you, Doctor Watson, don’t worry Sherlock won’t have gone far.”

Jack was right; Sherlock was leaning against a large black Range Rover parked out front of the Yard. Jack tossed a set of keys to him and walked around to the passenger side.

“You let him drive?” John said in surprise.

“I taught him to drive,” Jack said, “just don’t dent it this time,” he added.

“This is not a normal Range Rover,” John said as he took in the interior.

“Mycroft wasn’t too thrilled with the cost,” Jack said.

“Mycroft wasn’t too thrilled about having to hide the cost in the MP expense accounts,” Sherlock replied.

Jack checked something that John was certain wasn’t just a watch going by the inside of the Range Rover. Sherlock’s driving was better than John feared but still far more reckless than John would like. Jack on the other hand appeared completely relaxed and content to let Sherlock take the lead.

“It’s always the docks,” Jack said as he saw the direction they were heading, “why is it always the docks or the warehouse district? Nobody ever goes to a club anymore.”

“Stop trying to impress John,” Sherlock said heading the car towards an old canning factory.

“This makes sense,” Jack said, “plenty of dissolved ions and the kippers for a snack.”

“The thefts didn’t make sense until you showed me what you were tracking,” Sherlock said. 

“The murder was unintentional,” Jack said to John, “they must have attempted to extract the sodium and chloride before they realised there was an easier source.”

“Who are they?” John demanded.

“Not very nice… people,” Jack said. “They might have killed by accident the first time but they will kill again if we don’t stop them. If they escape and tell others…”

“Yes, yes,” Sherlock said impatiently, “the usual story. However, if they’ve succeeded in building a successful extractor…”

“I will be destroying it or taking it back to Cardiff,” Jack interrupted.

“I have no idea what you two are talking about,” John said in frustration.

“Aliens, John,” Sherlock said impatiently, “surely even you’ve figured it out by now.”

Sherlock stopped the car and he and Jack leapt out heading for the factory with John hurrying along behind.

“Aliens, as in a smuggling ring from Europe?” John asked hopefully.

“A bit further away than that,” Sherlock said.

John pinched the bridge of his nose. “You don’t care if the Earth orbits the sun or not but you believe in aliens?” he asked Sherlock.

“I believe in what I can see John,” Sherlock replied.

John looked over at Jack for support only to see him pull what appeared to be an old school military pistol. John pulled out his Sig as Sherlock opened the door. Jack noticed and nodded to John, appearing actually military for the first time. Their silent communication was not lost on Sherlock who almost looked offended. 

Before John could stop Sherlock from entering Jack had already pushed forward, taking the lead. Sherlock glared but settled for moving ahead of John little realising that was exactly where Jack and John wanted him (John knew he’d figure it out soon enough but hopefully not until they’d sorted out whatever it was they were sorting out).

Inside were a number of people moving boxes, a smaller group sitting in one corner, a large metallic mass by the loading bay and five creatures standing around a smaller machine. Creature was the only word John could think of. They had two arms and two legs each, and a single head but that was all that his eyes could cope with. He had an impression of blue and maybe tentacles but then Jack stepped forward.

“Torchwood, everybody freeze,” Jack yelled and everything went a little bit crazy.

There were screams and gunshots, several punch ups and some science fiction things involving laser beams that John would deal with later. Jack yelled things about treaty violations and shadows that had the creatures scurrying to the large metallic mass that turned out to be a flying ship, and Sherlock dashed forward to wrestle the small machine from tentacles before the ship took off (that was how John figured out it was a flying machine, however he wasn’t going to call it a spaceship).

It was then that two black vans and a limousine arrived. A team in military garb (with an insignia John didn’t recognise) rounded up the remaining people and herded them into the vans while their leader got into an argument with Jack about jurisdictions.

“UNIT, Mycroft?” Jack said when Mycroft exited the limousine, “I thought better of you.” 

“Of course you didn’t,” Mycroft said, “They were convenient and won’t ask as many questions. How are you Jack?”

“I’m good, Mycroft, thanks for asking,” Jack replied. “Unlike your brother who never asks.” He grinned at Sherlock.

Sherlock ignored them all in his investigation of the strange machine the creatures had left behind.

“Am I going to get any sort of explanation?” John demanded.

“Let’s go for a drink and I’ll tell you all about it,” Jack said.

“No!” Mycroft and Sherlock said simultaneously.

“It was just a suggestion,” Jack said raising his hands as Mycroft and Sherlock turned identical glares on him.

“Perhaps we could adjourn to mine?” Mycroft said. “I doubt John will be satisfied without a full explanation and Sherlock won’t let go of the device until he knows exactly what it does.”

“And then I’ll have to take it back to Cardiff,” Jack said, “You know the rules Sherlock,” he added before Sherlock could protest.

To John’s amazement Sherlock nodded and didn’t argue even though John could see he wanted to. He simply demanded that John help him manhandle the device into the Range Rover and dutifully followed the limousine back to Mycroft’s town house. 

“So Sherlock tells me you were stationed in Afghanistan,” Jack said, settling himself next to John as Mycroft poured drinks and Sherlock ignored everyone to focus on the device.

“He does?” John asked quizzically.

“Okay it was Mycroft really,” Jack admitted with a laugh, “I practically have to threaten Sherlock with a visit to get information. It’s been a while since I’ve been to Afghanistan,” he added.

Mycroft coughed and pointedly handed Jack a glass of water and John a scotch.

“So, aliens?” John said in the resulting silence.

“You handled your first encounter well doc,” Jack said. “Barely a flinch.”

“It may have been the strangest thing I’ve seen,” John said.

“But John is perfectly capable of dealing with unexpected situations,” Mycroft added.

“Well, living with Sherlock will do that for you,” John said and the man in question huffed, revealing that he was paying closer attention than his actions indicated. “How is it that Sherlock is aware of aliens but doesn’t care about the solar system?”

“The solar system is dull,” Sherlock replied, “once Jack had assured me there was no life on any of our planets I stopped caring.”

“That actually makes sense,” John said, “and adds a whole extra dimension of ‘what the hell?’ to my questions.”

“Go ahead John,” Jack said, “ask away. I’m sure Mycroft has cleared you for the highest level of need to know by now.”

“Only so far Jack,” Mycroft replied, “the rest is your jurisdiction.” He sounded reasonably put out by the admission.

“I’m sure Herself will agree that Doctor Watson is completely trustworthy in this instance,” Jack said.

“Herself as in Herself?” John had to clarify.

“Exactly who you think,” Sherlock interrupted, “my brother didn’t get all his influence at the palace through his own efforts you realise.”

“Of course he did,” Jack scolded. “Don’t pick fights with your brother.”

“Getting back to the alien thing,” John said, ignoring the tone of Jack’s voice for the moment. “Just what are we talking about, how many aliens, how often do they visit, are we talking Men in Black stuff here?”

“Of course not,” Jack said, “the American’s are hardly at that level yet, but I certainly wouldn’t say no to Will Smith or Tommy Lee Jones for that matter…”

“Jack…” Mycroft said with a long suffering sigh. 

Jack grinned unrepentantly. “Earth is just one of millions of planets with intelligent life,” he explained to John. “Earth just hasn’t reached the technological level it needs to get out there and meet them, but it is drawing attention to itself. Torchwood and other institutions are charged with ensuring that unwanted attention is dealt with. Harmless alien interest is allowed and encouraged but secrecy has to be maintained.”

“Why?” John said. “People have wanted to know we’re not alone in the universe for generations.”

“Most people are not as level headed as you John,” Mycroft said, “and with the political climate the way it is nobody can afford the risk of global panic.”

“People fill their heads with stupid ideas about aliens as either world destroyers or benevolent gods,” Sherlock said contemptuously, “never thinking that aliens could be just as petty and uninteresting as they are.” Sherlock tugged at a coupling as he attempted to dismantle the device.

“Easy there,” Jack said, putting down his glass and jumping to his feet. “That’s the main energy cable.”

“I am well aware of that,” Sherlock said.

“But have you disconnected it from the secondary input?” Jack said as a spark shot out of the far side of the machine. “Sherlock!” Jack snatched the coupling out of Sherlock’s hand just as a loud crack echoed through the room and a large spark arched up and struck Jack fully in the chest. Jack cried out and fell to the ground.

“Oh, Sherlock again?” Mycroft sighed as John leapt up and then hesitated before moving. Sherlock didn’t hesitate; he did something to the device and then knelt down beside Jack.

John dropped to his knees and grabbed Jack’s wrist. “No pulse,” he said grimly and made to start CPR.

“No John,” Sherlock said sharply.

“Sherlock, if we can keep his heart beating he should be fine,” John said.

“It’s a waste of time,” Sherlock said to John’s horror.

“It’s never a waste of time,” John scolded.

“What my brother is trying to say,” Mycroft stepped in, “is that Jack isn’t dead and will be fine in just a moment. This will go against everything you trained for John, but please rest assured, Jack will be fine.”

“Are you both mad?” John demanded. “He has no pulse, he won’t be fine.”

“Trust me John,” Sherlock said.

There was a gasp from the floor and Jack suddenly sat up.

“Jesus,” John gasped in shock.

“Not even close,” Jack joked as Sherlock helped him to his feet. “Now will you listen to me Sherlock,” he added sternly.

“I had it perfectly under control,” Sherlock said with a huff of indignation. “It was your foolish heroics that caused the problem.”

“What the hell just happened?” John said still on his knees.

“Jack is remarkably resilient,” Mycroft said offering John his hand.

“None of this makes sense,” John said in frustration. It was testament to his shock that John accepted Mycroft’s assistance.

“Don’t worry too much,” Jack said, “I’m living it and it doesn’t make sense to me either.”

“How can you come back from an electric shock like that?” John demanded. “You didn’t have a pulse.”

“I don’t know how it works,” Jack admitted, “I get hurt but I don’t die. Physical injuries heal faster but still have to heal. Having my heart stopped like that stings when I recover but that’s about all, and don’t worry about freaking out, you should have seen Sherlock’s first time.”

“Resurrection was hardly a concept I would be interested in,” Sherlock said.

“Until you saw Jack do it,” Mycroft corrected him, “at least after you stopped thinking it was a drug induced hallucination.”

“Yours wasn’t that much better Mycroft,” Jack said.

“I was only ten years old, Jack.”

“How long have you known each other?” John said. “Scratch that, how old are you Jack?”

“Older than he looks,” Sherlock said, “and will ever admit.”

John looked at the three men trying to figure out if it was all some elaborate joke or experiment on Sherlock’s part (John wouldn’t put anything past Sherlock).

He had the evidence of his eyes and his hands. Jack had definitely not had a pulse that John could find. It was possible that Sherlock had set up an elaborate experiment but there wasn’t a scenario he could imagine where Mycroft would assist Sherlock with such a trick. Add to that although both brothers had appeared calm when Jack had fallen John had seen enough real concern in both sets of eyes to know they had history. It was just going to take some more digging to find out what sort.

Something else occurred to John. “What did you mean again?” he said to Mycroft.

“This isn’t the first time Sherlock’s antics have caused Jack’s death,” Mycroft said.

“Come on Mycroft,” Jack said, “it’s not like he does it on purpose, at least not often.” Jack grinned but John had a horrible feeling he wasn’t joking. “I’m starving,” Jack added, “what have you got in the kitchen Mycroft?”

“Enough for a light meal,” Mycroft said.

“Excellent. Can I borrow a shirt? This one is ruined and I don’t want Ianto scolding me.”

John’s eyes were drawn to the scorch mark on Jack’s shirt, a graphic reminder of what had happened.

“I believe you still have some clothes in the Rose room,” Mycroft replied.

“You have questions,” Sherlock said to John after Mycroft followed Jack out of the room.

“Of course I do,” John said, “is it worth me asking them?”

“If you mean will I answer? That depends entirely on how stupid they are,” Sherlock said returning his attention to the device.

“Hasn’t that thing caused enough trouble?” John said, “and that doesn’t count as a question. Mycroft knows how to cook?”

“Of course he does, just wait until you see what he considers a light meal,” Sherlock griped, “if it’s less than four courses I’ll be very surprised. I hope your other questions aren’t as short sighted as that.”

“This Torchwood Jack mentioned, did it have something to do with those hallucinations a year or so back and the terrorist action at Canary Wharf, were those alien attacks?”

“Well theorised,” Sherlock praised, “obvious connections once you pay attention but an acceptable deduction from you John.”

“Where has Jack seen action?” John was developing a theory about the World War affectation.

“I think a better question would be where hasn’t he seen action?”

“So the rank of captain?”

“Was earned, yes. At least the second time around. Jack’s history is very colourful and longer than he will ever tell you. Vanity is one of his bigger weaknesses.”

“When did you first meet Jack?”

“I’ve known him all my life.”

Further questions were halted by Jack poking his head around the door. “We’ll eat in the kitchen,” he said, “I stopped Mycroft from setting the table.”

Contrary to Sherlock’s prediction dinner was only three courses and it was incredibly good, starting with soup and crusty bread and finishing with what Mycroft apologised for being a quickly thrown together Eton Mess. John enjoyed it only slightly less than Jack who set to with gusto.

“So when did this whole not staying dead thing start?” John asked Jack when they had returned to the sitting room with coffee.

“I was travelling with some friends,” Jack said, “seems like a lifetime ago now. We got into a bit of trouble and I got shot. Woke up and my friends were gone, I guess they thought I was dead, hell I thought I was dead. I went looking for them and ended up in Cardiff, then discovered that not staying dead thing was a habit I couldn’t break.”

“I’m guessing that’s the short version,” John said and Jack grinned. “When did you meet Mycroft and Sherlock?”

“When they were very small, very loud and a little bit slimy,” Jack replied.

“Thank you Jack,” Mycroft said with a grimace, “not an image any of us needed.”

“You were adorable Mycroft,” Jack said, “with those big eyes that already seemed to know so much.”

“You sound like a parent,” John joked.

“Finally John,” Sherlock said, “all the clues were there, I expected you to figure it out well before now.”

“I believe John was making a joke,” Mycroft said as John looked at Sherlock in confusion.

“Really John,” Sherlock said in annoyance, “everything was there if you’d just look.”

“Come now Sherlock,” Mycroft chided him, “you do Doctor Watson a disservice. Given Jack’s apparent age him being our father would be the last assumption John would make.”

“It shouldn’t be,” Sherlock insisted, “John is more observant than most, his time as a doctor and a soldier demonstrates that. Jack has been less than careful in the way he interacts with us, a child would have noticed.”

“A child will notice many things adults have learned cannot be the truth. Growing up with Jack we were granted the rare chance to learn that the truth was stranger than our eyes could see,” Mycroft said.

“Don’t be such a pretentious git,” Sherlock replied.

“You’re their dad?” John said in shock as Mycroft and Sherlock continued to bicker.

Jack smiled indulgently. “Yep,” he said, “for my sins.”

“But their name, is it their mother’s?”

“I had to give them an identity that wasn’t connected to me,” Jack said, “so I picked names from a book my friend loved to read. Never really expected them to turn out so much like their namesakes.” Jack shook his head.

“You still haven’t told us about that book,” Sherlock interrupted his glaring contest with Mycroft.

“I told you, spoilers…” Jack replied, “and my friend has a knack of getting things out of order.”

“Your doctor,” Sherlock said with a frown.

“And now you have a doctor to have adventures with too,” Jack teased. “He always made Mycroft be the doctor when they had adventures.”

“That explains the coat,” John laughed.

“And the suits funnily enough.”

“And their mother?” John asked.

“Is around,” Jack said vaguely. “You’re taking this all rather well,” he added.

“I’m really not,” John said, “but while Sherlock will happily experiment on me if he believes it necessary, I do trust him most of the time, so I will go with the evidence before me and have a small breakdown later.”

“No you won’t,” Sherlock said dismissively. “John has proven to be remarkably resilient,” he said to Jack.

“Not that resilient,” John insisted. “So far I’ve discovered that aliens are real, a man who can’t die who just happens to be the father of my best friend and his brother working for a top secret organisation even though at best he looks like an elder brother or young uncle. I need a cup of tea. Let me,” he added to Mycroft, “I need to get my head around all of this.”

“So mentioning that when we refer to mummy…” Sherlock began only to be cut of emphatically by John.

“Don’t, just don’t…”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for now lost prompt on the kink_meme for Jack to be Mummy.


End file.
